Root underground base.
At the end of the cold, damp passage, a Root agent knelt on one knee before a nameless iron door.
Inside, the sound of a cane tapping against the floor echoed.
“Speak.” It was only one word, dry, hoarse, and devoid of any emotion.
The Root agent lowered his head to report, his voice steady.
“The target’s behavior is entirely consistent with the file.
His Chakra is pitifully low, and he has zero combat training.” “When he encountered the assassination attempt, he was in a state of stress-induced collapse the entire time.” The tapping of the cane stopped.
“But?” Danzo asked coldly.
The agent bowed his head lower.
“There appear to be traces of a Body Replacement Technique in the courtyard.” “One second before the blade could pierce his skin, the target inexplicably flashed three meters away.” “Although he was pushed by the shockwave of the exploding water tank, it looked like a coincidence…” He paused, then braced himself to add: “Also, when I was retreating, a piece of fabric from my pant leg was snagged by a splinter on the wooden porch.” Behind the iron door, there was a deathly silence.
Danzo sat in the darkness, his single eye half-closed.
Once is a coincidence; twice is luck.
But he, Danzo Shimura, had never believed in luck in his entire life.
“Someone is protecting him from behind the scenes.” This judgment was the pure instinct of a conspirator, etched into his very bones.
A weakling with a combat power of five, able to dodge two fatal blows from a Root elite in a row?
Bullshit!
The only explanation is that someone set up a trap in this dilapidated courtyard in advance.
The perfectly positioned broken water tank, the clothes hung in such a tricky spot, and the splintered board specifically meant to snag fabric.
It looks like a doghouse, but in reality, it’s full of traps!
The more Danzo thought about it, the colder his expression became.
Uchiha Yuya.
This name had only appeared on his desk three days ago.
A public confession, filing a report in advance, and crazily creating public opinion noise.
Every move this kid makes seems non-lethal, yet he is constantly compressing the operational space of Root.
This is definitely not something an ordinary loser could do.
Who exactly is pulling his strings from behind the scenes?
The Third Hokage?
Or someone within the Uchiha clan?
This piece can no longer be left alone.
“Go clean up the scene.” Danzo ordered coldly.
“Mud prints, fabric fibers, poison needles—wipe them all out overnight.
No traces must be linked to Root.” “It must be done before dawn.” The agent accepted the order and vanished instantly into the dark passage.
Meanwhile.
An Anbu observation point directly under the Hokage.
An Anbu wearing a cat mask was writing furiously in the night log.
“At 2:45 AM, unidentified personnel investigated Uchiha Yuya’s residence at night.” “Stayed for about four minutes, high-speed Taijutsu, deliberately suppressed presence, identity unknown.” After finishing, the intelligence slip was inserted into a delivery tube and sent to the duty officer.
The veteran on duty picked up the slip, glanced at it twice, and casually flipped open the instructions file at hand.
On it was a note just approved by the Third Hokage yesterday: “Regarding the Uchiha Yuya case, suspend action and continue observation.” The veteran curled his lip.
Since the Third Hokage has already given the order to watch the show, us workers won’t take the blame for withholding information.
He picked up his pen and heavily added a line below the record.
“Add night surveillance camera positions and increase observation frequency.” Stamped and filed.
This thing is now an ironclad case; whoever wants to destroy it in the future will have to get the Third Hokage himself to nod and stamp it.
Uchiha Police Force.
Just at dawn, the duty officer yawned while flipping through the handover records.
“East District, nothing to report…
South District, nothing to report…” “At the edge of the West District, there were strange noises in Uchiha Yuya’s courtyard at night.
The individual involved claimed to have broken a water bucket and was not injured.” The duty officer’s hand paused, and he felt a headache coming on.
It’s this Uchiha Yuya again.
The “death report” submitted by this lunatic the day before yesterday was still lying on the corner of the desk.
Written in black and white were “accidental death,” “abnormal atmosphere,” and “emergency contact: Itachi.” Whoever touches this guy is a total sucker.
The duty officer rubbed his temples and decisively decided to play dead.
With a stroke of his pen, he scribbled in the remarks column of the logbook: “Individual claimed to have fallen, no follow-up needed.” The record was shoved into the deepest part of the filing cabinet.
It wasn’t reported, and it wasn’t torn up.
Just waiting for the right opportunity to see the light of day again.
Early in the morning.
Yuya sat under the porch, perfunctorily bandaging his abrasions with a rag.
His movements were sluggish, his eyes dull.
He didn’t cry or make a fuss, didn’t go out, and certainly didn’t go to the Konoha Military Police Force to report the crime.
He didn’t even touch the three red lines Itachi had drawn with his toes.
As for the mess in the courtyard?
A loser who just escaped death, how could he have the heart to get up early and do a deep clean?
That’s called having a guilty conscience, not being scared.
So he just kicked the broken wood blocking his way to the side and continued to space out.
Muddy footprints?
Don’t touch.
Broken boards?
Don’t look.
Poison needles?
Just let them flutter in the wind on his clothes.
The main idea is natural fermentation.
Before he could swallow the half-eaten white porridge, a prompt suddenly popped up in his mind.
[System prompt: External information flow change detected.] [Anbu observation record archived.
Konoha Military Police Force patrol record registered.] [Current mission progress: 68%.
Not settled.] [Reason: Existing records only prove “someone approached” and have not formed a complete chain of evidence for “Root contact.” More critical observations needed.] 68%.
Yuya put down his bowl, clear-headed.
The missing thirty-some percent is just the lack of ironclad evidence to seal the deal.
He absolutely cannot proactively call for help now; once he reveals his eagerness, the victim becomes the mastermind.
What do you call this?
Expanding the big picture.
Just sit firmly on the fishing platform and wait for that old schemer in Root to come and patch the holes himself.
Night fell.
As the Night of the Uchiha Clan Massacre approached, the atmosphere in the Uchiha Clan Compound was so oppressive it could wring out water.
The frequency of the patrol teams doubled.
The Root cleanup operative squatted on a distant abandoned water tower, silently counting down.
The patrol team passed the alley entrance every fifteen minutes.
This was the limit of his window to erase the traces.
It had to be cleared before dawn; there was no room for negotiation.
Timing it just after the patrol team left, the cleanup operative moved.
He vaulted in from the west side of the courtyard wall, landing without a sound.
Within three seconds, he reached the wooden porch.
His two fingers precisely pinched away the fabric scrap, and he smoothed out the scratch from the broken wooden splinter.
Six seconds, moving to the mud.
His palm pressed against the ground, Chakra seeped out, shattering and restructuring the soil, and the shoeprints vanished instantly.
Twelve seconds, he pulled down the old coat from the clothesline.
He turned the cuffs inside out, scraped the needles and powder clean, and hung it back as it was.
Eighteen seconds.
Everything cleaned up.
The movements were fluid and smooth, silky enough to be put directly into Root’s internal training videos.
After confirming no tails were left, he retreated the way he came.
This Root elite gave himself full marks for his operation tonight.
But what he could never have dreamed of was— In the shadows of the roof just one wall away.
A pair of eyes wearing a cat mask was watching his performance unblinkingly.
The Anbu observer lowered his head and scribbled a new entry in his little notebook.
“At 2:30 AM, an unidentified Ninja infiltrated the target’s courtyard for the second time.” “Stayed for about twenty seconds, suspected of trying to cover up, eager to erase traces at the scene.” “Techniques were extremely professional, with obvious directional pointers.” And at this moment, Yuya was lying in the room, comfortably rolling over.
No need to look to know that Danzo, that old schemer, must have sent someone overnight to clean up his mess.
Rushing to deliver the smoking gun—this time, he has won big!